I have use for you, and you have meaning for me; I like to see your soul in its hours of dream and ecstasy. Whenever one of my own dreams a dream of Paradise, the light grows brighter for me, to whom all things are bright. Oh, forget not the charm of the moment, forget not the lure of the mood! For the mood is wiser than all the magi of earth, and the treasures of the moment are richer and rarer than the hoarded wealth of the ages. The moment is real, while the age is only a delusion, a memory, and a shadow. Be sure that each moment is all, and the moment is more than time. Time carries an hour-glass, and his step is slow; his hair is white with the rime of years, and his scythe is dull with unwearied mowing; But he never yet has caught the moment in its flight. He has grown old in casting nets for it. Ah, the magic of life and of the endless combination of living things! I was young when the sun was formed, and I shall be young when the moon falls dead in the arms of her daughter the earth. Will you not be young with me? The dust is as nothing: the soul is all. Like a crescent moon on the surface of a lake of water is the moment of love’s awakening; Like a faded flower in the lap of the tired world is the moment of love’s death. But there is love and Love, and the love of the light for its radiance is the love of souls for each other. There is no death where the inner light shines, irradiating the fields of the within--the beyond--the unattainable attainment. You know where to find me.” LETTER XXXIX THE DOCTRINE OF DEATH MANY times during the months in which I have been here have I seen men and women lying in a state of unconsciousness more profound than the deepest sleep, their faces expressionless and uninteresting. At first, before I understood the nature of their sleep, I tried as an experiment to awaken one or two of them, and was not successful. In certain cases where my curiosity was aroused, I have returned later, day after day, and found them still lying in the same lethargy. “Why,” I asked myself, “should any man sleep like that--a sleep so deep that neither the spoken word nor the physical touch could arouse him?” One day when the Teacher was with me we passed one of those unconscious men whom I had seen before, had watched, and had striven unsuccessfully to arouse. “Who are these people who sleep like that?” I asked the Teacher; and he replied: “They are those who in their earth life denied the immortality of the soul after death.” “How terrible!” I said. “And will they never awaken?”